


Here and Now

by Karis_Artemisia_Judith



Series: Show Me [2]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1983585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karis_Artemisia_Judith/pseuds/Karis_Artemisia_Judith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1676633">Show Me</a>. </p><p>Kristoff touched his shoulder for the tenth time that evening, feeling a slight twinge as he rubbed at it. It was fading, but beneath the shirt and formal jacket he wore there was still a mottled bruise, green and purple and shaped like small, perfect teeth....</p><p>Anna and Kristoff go for a walk in the gardens during a ball, and take a few more small steps in their emotional and physical intimacy together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here and Now

Kristoff touched his shoulder for the tenth time that evening, feeling a slight twinge as he rubbed at it. It was fading, but beneath the shirt and formal jacket he wore there was still a mottled bruise, green and purple and shaped like small, perfect teeth. If he closed his eyes he could still hear her muffled scream, feel her body spasm against him, her slick heat tightening and pulsing around his fingers….Kristoff swore faintly under his breath and shifted to stand closer to the dessert table, his back to the room, and wished that his trousers weren’t so snug.

At the time the pain of Anna’s teeth in his shoulder had been a welcome distraction, helping him ignore his aching arousal so that he could focus on her as she unraveled beneath him, flushed and taut and warm and so beautiful. Now, however, the lingering reminder only served to bring up the memory of that moment over and over again, leaving him hard and wanting and at the moment painfully aware that he wasn’t wearing his loose, comfortable ice harvesting gear. He shifted his feet and stared impassively at the punch bowl.

A small hand slipped into the curve of his elbow. “I know you don’t want punch, because you hate punch,” Anna said, tilting her head to look up at him. “Are you okay?”

"Yeah, yeah of course." He covered her hand with his and pushed the memories back, clearing his throat. "I was just…thinking."

"What about?"

"You." Her, soft under his hands and saying his name—he fought down the blush that was rising in his face and lifted a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." She touched his chest, smoothing the lapels of his jacket. "You look good too."

Over her shoulder, Kristoff caught a glimpse of the frowns that turned toward them as the princess straightened his cravat. A fat countess, a grizzled earl, a heavily mustached old admiral and his sparse-bearded son, the young duke with the heavy eyebrows—there were many people in the ballroom who were less than thrilled to see the princess being so casually intimate with a low-born nobody. There had been just as many people who murmured helpfully in Kristoff’s ear, pointing this out. They had been so very concerned, so very sorry to interfere, so thoughtful as they let the inexperienced ice master know what people were saying about him, about her, about the impossibility of  _them._ Over the weeks they had sunk claws into Kristoff. He had started to see what they saw, because of course it was true. She was the princess of Arendelle. He was nobody, of nowhere in particular. All he had was a name and a made-up position. He was uncouth, he was smelly, he had rough hands and rougher manners, and the more he stuck around the more people were going to whisper about Anna. The more he would be hurting her reputation, endangering her future. He had believed them, and he had nearly walked away from her. He had _tried_  to walk away from her. It hadn’t worked.

Her fingertips touched his chin, and he looked down. Anna hadn’t noticed the frowns around them—she wasn’t looking at the rest of the room at all. She was smiling up at him. His hand rose unconsciously to touch his shoulder again. The things people had said had been true enough, but they hadn’t taken into account an important detail.  _Anna_. Of course he didn’t deserve her, but she had chosen him. She wanted him. She’d put her mark on  _him_.

Anna laid her hand over his, wincing a little. “Does it still hurt? I’m sorry—”

"No, no, it’s fine." He curled his fingers around hers. "It’s fine. It’s…it’s good." She smiled up at him and he could feel the grin stretching his own cheeks in response. He knew he must look like an utter idiot, and he didn’t care. . Anna wanted him. Anna would get what she wanted, always. Whatever was in his power to give her, she would have. The frowns around them only made Kristoff rest his other hand possessively against Anna’s back, just for a moment, jusy long enough to send a messageFrom the corner of his eye he saw the heavy-eyebrowed duke turn away with a disgusted huff. Kristoff smiled and lifted the small hand he held to his lips.

There was an elusive flash of emotion across Anna’s face, a fleeting look that he’d noticed several times but had so far failed to understand. He knew he wasn’t good at reading people, but he wanted to be able to read Anna. He wanted to study her face like a book until he knew every one of her many expressions, especially this one. Something about that brief flicker bothered him. For the last week it had appeared for an instant whenever he reached out for her, when he smiled at her, and he didn’t know what it meant. But it was quickly swallowed up by Anna’s warm smile as she tugged on his hand.

"Walk me out to the garden," she said. "It’s too stuffy in here."

He glanced around apprehensively, looking for Elsa, or Kai.  _Their_  frowns were frowns that definitely mattered. “Is that…okay? Is that allowed?”

"Of course! People go out to get some air all the time, it’s fine." She tucked her hand back into his elbow and pulled him toward the doors that opened up to the veranda. "Come on." When he still hesitated she glanced up at him, her lip in her teeth. "Please?"

"Okay," he said, and there it was again, that emotion that washed over her face and then was gone. She grinned and led him out into the late summer night. There were lanterns around the veranda, where men and women were indeed standing in a few clusters, but Anna drew him toward the shallow steps that led into the shadowed garden. "Are you  _sure_  that this is allowed?”

“ _Yes_ , why are you worried? Strolling in the gardens is fine.”

"I just—" He stopped. They were outside of the circle of light created by the lanterns, standing in the deeper shadows of an arched trellis heavy with vines, and Kristoff looked back at the ballroom doors, frowning. "I don’t want to do anything that…I don’t want to reflect badly on you, Anna. I don’t want people to say things about you because of me. Well, not more things than they already say. I don’t…." He rubbed a hand helplessly over his face, then rubbed the back of his head, ruffling up the hair that had been so carefully combed into presentability.

"I don’t care what they say." Anna touched his arm, fingers curling in the fabric of his sleeve. "I don’t."

"I have to."

"Oh." She let go and took a step back, out of the shadow of the trellis. Moonlight fell over her face and Kristoff could see her crestfallen expression, the disappointed slump of her shoulders. "But I wanted—never mind. I’m sorry. We can go back—"

He reached out for her, caught her hand. “No. No, we don’t have to go back. I want to stay out here with you.”

Her face lifted and the smile that lit it was bright enough to make up for the absent sun, but that other expression was there again, and this time it lasted just long enough that Kristoff recognized it. Relief. She’d been looking  _relieved,_  every time he touched her since the day he’d tried to remove himself from her life. That had been a mistake. He’d worked himself up to it, grimly repeating over and over to himself the things he’d been told, the hissing little lies that were being spread, reminding himself that it would be better, Anna would be better without him. He’d made himself believe that he had to leave her.

He’d convinced himself so well that it had taken Anna literally throwing herself into his arms to stop him, giving him her body like a promise.  _I want you to be the one who touches me_ , she’d said, and he’d obliged. She would have willingly given him much more, with a passionate generosity that took his breath away, but the prospect had terrified Kristoff. Still terrified him, when he thought about the possibility of hurting her. Of losing her, and the sweet, boundless trust she seemed to have in him. He’d hurt that trust enough already. It made his chest feel tight.

Kristoff tugged Anna to him, stepping back even deeper into the shadows, letting the exuberant foliage shield them from the ballroom doors so that he could fold his arms around her. She laid her cheek against him with a sigh, and he felt the tension in her body relax as he held her close. “Anna,” he said softly, “I want to be with you.”

Her arm wrapped around his waist, squeezing. “I know.”

"I’m not going to leave you." He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, her hair, fingers sliding under her elaborate twists of braid to cradle her head. "I’ll never leave you. Do you know that, too?"

She pressed her face into his chest, nodding. “I know.”

"But…" He paused, fumbling inexpertly at ideas that were new to him, for the words that would communicate unfamiliar thoughts. "Anna, are you still afraid? Of me leaving? You get this look, and I—" He stopped, his arm around her tightening helplessly. There was a pause, a long heartbeat, and then Anna nodded against him again. Her arm tightened too.

"I don’t mean to be, I don’t want…I know you said…and I trust you, but…I just…I’m sorry."

Kristoff lifted his other hand to her face, so that he could cup her cheeks in his palms and tilt her chin up gently to look at him. She was biting her lip and he brushed it with his thumb, coaxing her to part her lips before he bent his head and kissed her.  Anna waited for him to come to her, but as soon as his mouth touched hers she was pressing up anxiously into the kiss, her hands fisting in his clothes and tension rising in her body once more as she pressed that against him, too. Kristoff held back from her urgency, despite the fiery sweetness of her taste and the strong curve of her arching against him—he wanted to kiss her gently, thoroughly, and he felt her calm a little as he took his time. He kissed her until he felt her melt against him, then he drew back just enough to rest his forehead against hers.

"I won’t leave you, Anna. Never. I’ll never leave unless—unless you send me away." Because he might wake up,  _she_  might wake up, and realize that this could never happen…but until then. “I’m yours, remember? Yours. I promise.”

Anna nodded, and lifted her face to kiss the corner of his mouth, a confirmation and a promise. “I know,” she whispered. “I know.”

There were footsteps on the garden path and they both stiffened. Kristoff realized he had moved automatically to put himself in between Anna and the sound, as if it might be some dangerous animal (which, he supposed, it might—a courtier could be a very dangerous animal indeed), but she responded by catching his hand and pulling him deeper into the garden after her. The footsteps didn’t follow as they moved in and out of patches of moonlight and the strange shadows left by the elaborate topiaries. Before long they’d gone far enough that the noise of music and talking from the ballroom was just a faint hum in the distance, muffled by walls of shrubs and vines. Anna’s hand clasped his and her shoulder leaned against his arm.

"Kristoff?"

"Yeah?" He looked down. Anna’s face tilted down, giving him only a curve of cheek to judge by, but her voice was hesitant and pensive.

"What do you want?"

"What?" Kristoff stopped walking, pulling her to a halt with him. "What do you mean?"

"Well…you asked me what I want. Or, I guess I told you, and you asked if I was sure, but…I’ve never asked you what  _you_  want.” She had kept holding his hand, clasping it in both of hers as she turned to face him, but she let go and folded her hands at her waist, looking up at him resolutely. There was something in the gesture he recognized, an echo of his own actions when he’d pulled away from her to ask  _are you sure_. “I should have asked before, but I’m asking now. What do you want?”

 ”I want…” He hesitated, thinking carefully. “I want to know that you’re safe,” he said finally. “I want…to know that you’re happy. And I want to be with you. In that order. That’s what I want.”

"Oh." Anna bit her lip, looking down, and the moonlight made it hard to tell but he thought she was blushing. She shrugged her shoulders awkwardly. "Oh. I mean—are you sure? Don’t you want things that are for you? Surely you want more than that."

"Anna…" He spread out his hands, looking down at them. The harsh shadows of the full moon highlighted the scars that crossed the backs of his hands, the roughness of callouses on his palms and fingers. "I never wanted things from other people," he said finally. "When I was little, there was…a bad thing. It destroyed the village where I was born, and all the people I’d ever known were gone. People ran away, left the mountain. People…people died. And in the mountains, after something like that…you can’t just go to another village. You’re bad luck, cursed. So I was on my own. But I learned to cut ice, and I loved ice because it meant that I was something. I had a trade, I could work. I didn’t  _need_  people. I never wanted anything but to be on my own, to take care of myself, to not need anyone. And…yeah, there are things I want. I want to work, I want to go up the mountain, but…I can’t want to not need anyone anymore, because I’ll always want one person.” Kristoff paused, curling his fingers, feeling the marks of years of work, of building up meaning and a place for himself, alone. Then he reached out for hers, and she let him take them.

"I never had anything," he said quietly. "And I didn’t want anything, until you became everything. The only thing that I’m afraid of losing is you."

Anna had ducked her head again so that he couldn’t see her face, but he heard her sniff. He nearly started stammering an apology, until she sniffed again and cleared her throat. “What about Sven?” she asked.

He blinked. “What about Sven?” he repeated.

"Aren’t…" she sniffed again. "Aren’t you afraid of losing Sven?"

"Oh, well, I—not really. Sven can take care of himself."

Anna pulled one of her hands free to poke him in the stomach. “I can take care of myself.”

He grinned and tugged her into his arms. “You can’t be trusted to walk down a staircase. When you went whizzing down that banister I nearly swallowed my own tongue. From now on you can only go up or down the stairs if I’m carrying you.”

She muffled a giggle against his shirt. “You’re going to get really tired of that.”

"I won’t, I’ll charge a toll." He smoothed his hand up and down her back, stroking over the soft velvet of her bodice. "I love you," he murmured, bending to kiss the top of her head.

"I love you, too," she said. "But…Kristoff, if you won’t want to lose me, why—why were you going to leave?"

His hold on her tightened. “Because…people told me things, and I believed them. I thought you’d eventually be happier, if I wasn’t there. Here. In the way.”

“ _No_ ,” Anna said firmly. She squirmed closer as if she wanted to burrow into him. “I want you here. I’m happier with you  _here, now_.”

He held her tightly, as tightly as he dared. “I know. I know that now.” Kristoff pressed his face against her hair, kissing her temple, wishing that he could give her what she had given him, this simple confidence that she wanted him, the he belonged with her. He’d never belonged anywhere—even with the trolls, as much as he loved them, he was always aware of being different. He’d never belonged anywhere except in the emptiness of the mountain. In the months since the Thaw he’d walked a tightrope of uncertainty, of frustrated wanting, and when he’d almost fallen Anna had pulled him to sure footing. To her.

His arm lifted, reaching across her to touch his shoulder once more, and Anna turned her face against his chest to watch him. She laid her hand over his, as she had in the ballroom, but without wincing—instead he saw her eyes turn dark and thoughtful as she looked up at him.

"So…in the ballroom…you were thinking of me?"

"Yeah."

Her fingertips traced circles on the back of his hand lightly. “What about me?”

"Ah…" He felt himself blush as he recalled just what his thoughts had been and the memories washed over him again. Warmth and softness and slick heat and—he cleared his throat roughly, but Anna’s hand was sliding down his chest, tracing the line of his lapel, then the buttons of his waistcoat, pausing to linger against his waist. She stood on tiptoe to kiss his shoulder, lips warm even through the layers of shirt and jacket. Kristoff’s arm at her waist had relaxed, but it tightened again, pressing her against his body, and Anna gasped. He started to pull away but then she was leaning into him, her hand slipping further down against his hip to rest perilously close to the arousal that he hoped was muffled by her layers of skirts and petticoats…but Anna looked up at him through her lashes and he knew that the hope was a vain one. "Anna, I—" he stammered.

"Are you thinking about me now?" Her thumb was making circles over the fabric of his trousers, sliding over the crease of his hip, making him shudder.

He bent to kiss her forehead. “What do you think?” For answer her palm moved to curve over him, stroking, caressing, and leaving him gasping against her hair. “ _Anna_.”

"I noticed," she whispered. "In the ballroom. What were you thinking about?"

Kristoff slid his hands up her back to cradle the back of her head, pressed his lips to her temple, her brow, her hair. “You,” he said, his voice ragged as her touch sent shudders of pleasure up his spine. “How much I love you. How much I want you, Anna.” He groaned as she took her hand away, but she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his neck, her breath hot as she kissed from his collar to his ear.

"You want me?"

"Gods, yes, Anna. I want you." He held her close and nuzzled his face against her neck in turn, breathing in her scent. "I want you so much."

Her small, hot hand rubbed over him again. “I want to help,” she said softly. Anna looked up at him, biting her lip, and for a moment he stared down at her, uncomprehending. “I want to help,” she repeated. “I want…I want to feel you. Please?” She squeezed lightly and his eyes fluttered shut as he realized what she meant.

"Anna, I—we can’t, not  _here_ …not right  _now…_ ”

Anna stepped back and grabbed his arm. “That doesn’t matter. Come with me.”

He followed in a daze, and Anna led him to the center of the garden where a small structure of lacy ironwork stood in the center of a gravel circle. The little building was overgrown with vines, and inside there was a secluded bench. Anna tugged him in after her. The moonlight, filtering down through gently fluttering leaves, made dappled patterns on her face and caught in her coppery hair, making her shimmer.

"No one can see us here," she said. She sounded breathless, and her fingers were curled tightly around his as if she was afraid he would pull away. "And no one can sneak up, because you can hear anyone coming over the gravel. Believe me, I know  _all_  about how to sneak around in this garden, and…I…” Anna spread her hands, half in a helpless shrug and half reaching for him. Kristoff couldn’t resist her, not when she looked up at him like that. He caught her up in his arms, lifting her off of her feet so that he could kiss her.

"Anna…" She clung to his shoulders, making a soft sound in the back of her throat. He kissed her deeply, then drew back to press lighter kisses on the corner of her mouth, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. He rested his forehead against hers. "Anna, you don’t have to…."

"I want to." Anna wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his face until he turned his head to catch her lips again. "I  _want_  to,” she repeated. Kristoff set her down gently, so that his hands were free to cup her face. He studied her expression anxiously. Anna smiled at him a little shakily and laid her palms on his chest, over his heart. “I want to feel you,” she said again. “I want…I want to be close to you. I know we can’t…I mean, not  _that_ , I know this isn’t the time for that, I just…” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I want to touch  _you_. I want you to show me how to touch you. Please.”

Kristoff stroked his thumbs over her cheeks, his fingertips brushing over her hair as he bent to kiss her forehead lightly. “I’m all yours,” he said. “If it’s what you want, Anna. Whatever you want.”

She smiled up at him and reached out to run her own fingers down his chin. “You’re what I want. Now…um. Should you sit down?”

He sat, and he let Anna push his hands away so that she could tug at the buttons of his trousers herself. Her face was intent, her soft bottom lip caught firmly in her teeth with concentration, and he felt tenderness coil in his chest just as intensely as the aching lust that was making his heart pound. Anna sat beside him and he wrapped his arm around her waist, wanting to hold her. “Anna…” He bit back a groan as her hand touched his stomach, then slid down to curl around him.

"Oh," she whispered. Her grip was light, her fingers brushing over him, exploring. Kristoff forced himself to keep still and let her, even though the teasing touches were sending sharp throbs of sensation through him, making him ache for more. She left her hand drift experimentally over his length, through the thick hair curling at the base, then deeper into his loosened trousers to delicately cup his balls in her hot palm. She pulled away hastily when he let out a sharp hiss of breath, but he caught her hand in his.

"It’s okay," he said quickly.

"Did that hurt?"

He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. “No, it was good.”

"Show me how," she said, her voice a soft breath against his cheek as she pressed closer to his side.

He brought the hand he held back to his shaft, watching her face for any sign that she wanted to stop. There was only focus and curiosity, and he gratefully curled her small fingers around his stiffness, her hand enveloped by his as he showed her how tightly she could hold him, guiding her to stroke and squeeze. She ran her thumb over his head as she’d seen him do and he couldn’t contain his groan. He muffled his lips against her hair, his own hand stroking the curve of her waist. Anna seemed to be all around him, her scent filling the air, her warmth permeating him despite the slight chill of the evening. She turned her face into his neck, kissing the underside of his jaw with soft, lingering pulls of her lips, and it was that almost more than her delightful but unpracticed hand that undid him. Everything about him was Anna, fire and sweetness and warmth, and his fingers curled against the fabric of her bodice as he jerked and gasped, the burst of overwhelming pleasure catching him off guard.

Kristoff blinked the haze from his eyes to find that Anna, at least, had had the presence of mind to produce a handkerchief, although her fingers were smeared with his sticky release. She brought them curiously to her lips, licking, and then looked up at his gasp to meet his wide eyes. Anna blanched.

"Is that—is that bad?" she asked, hastily wiping her fingers on the handkerchief. "I just…I heard somewhere that—I—"

"It’s not bad," he said hastily. "I just…didn’t expect you to want…there’s nothing wrong with it, um, if it’s something you want to do. But if you don’t like it, that’s fine, it’s…it’s fine."

"It’s a little strange," she said thoughtfully. "But not…not  _bad_. Different.”

He stroked light fingers over her back, marveling at her, and noticed a pensive frown touching her lips. “What is it?”

"Nothing, I just…I was just thinking about…" She looked down at her own hand, then laid it in his, studying them both. Her slim fingers looked tiny and dainty against his rough palm. "You know," she said finally, "I get it now. What you said, when we first met. About, um, feet."

"Oh," he said. Then " _Oh_.”

Anna grinned up at him. “It was really a very improper thing for you to say to a princess, you know.”

"I was sort of counting on you not understanding," he muttered. "Where did you learn about that?"

She shrugged. “I’ve been reading. And asking questions.  _Discreet_  questions,” she added, catching his look. “Mostly reading. But…it’s a little different, just understanding the, um, the theory, compared to…” Anna gestured helplessly and he caught her fluttering hands, folding them against his chest gently.

"Anna, nothing will ever happen between us that you don’t want. I promise. If you’ve changed your mind about wanting…ah…"

"No!" Her fingers curled into his shirt front and she automatically leaned into him. "No, I haven’t changed my mind. I want to be with you. I want…I want it a lot." She blushed, so darkly that he could see it clearly even in the dappled silver light. "I just…I didn’t realize how…I mean, you…you’re…you’re very…" She cleared her throat. "I’m small," she said finally. "I guess I understand why you were worried. About hurting me. Even though I don’t think you will," she added hastily. "I just…think I need to ask some more questions. Before we…you know."

Kristoff cupped her face in his hands, leaning over her to kiss her long and tenderly. Words were failing him, but he was finding with Anna that lips could communicate in other, more effective ways as well. He wanted to tell her that he would rather die than hurt her. That he would wait as long as she needed, even if it was forever. That she was precious to him, that he cherished every soft freckled inch of her, cherished the way she snorted sometimes when she laughed, the way her hands flailed out of control when she was excited, the way she sighed peacefully with her whole body when she felt content. That he loved her. He didn’t know how to say any of those things, without sounding like a complete and utter idiot, so instead he kissed her until her hands had thoroughly rumbled his hair and she was leaning limply into his chest. At last he pressed a final soft kiss to the corner of her mouth and leaned back with her in his arms.

After resting quietly against him for a moment, Anna busied herself refastening the buttons of his trousers, tucking in his shirt, smoothing down his waistcoat and lapels. The slim fingers that had so recently been pleasuring him fussed over his cravat, stroked over the fabric of his jacket. He smiled, relaxed and quiet, remembering what it had been like to hold her against him, limp and vulnerable after her climax, the overwhelming rush of tenderness that he had felt, and the desire to take care of her, watch over her, precious and sweet and safe. Apparently something of that feeling went both ways.

Satisfied with her arranging, Anna looked into his face, and whatever she saw made a proud smile bloom on her lips. She leaned in to kiss him, and he tugged her onto his lap. “Thank you,” he told her, kissing her again, lightly. “Do you…?” He let the question trail off, but his hand stroked over her hip inquiringly. She shook her head, although she squirmed a little on his knees. He felt her thighs shift inside the layers of skirts, rubbing together restlessly. But she stood up firmly.

"No time, now—we should go back, before the ball’s over."

He stood as well, sliding his hands around her waist. “I don’t like to leave you unsatisfied,” he muttered.

She traced a fingertip up the buttons of his waistcoat. “I guess you’ll just have to come and kiss me goodnight, later,” she said.

They walked back to the verandah, her hand clasped in his, and a flustered Kai met them at the door. “There you are! The guests are beginning to leave, if you’ll join her majesty for the farewells…”

"Oh! Right!" Anna kissed Kristoff hastily on the cheek and darted inside in a flutter of skirts and ribbons. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her hurry to join her sister against the colorful throng of nobles, ready to do her duty. His thumb rubbed over the callouses on his other hand thoughtfully. He didn’t know where he fit, in terms of Anna’s duty. He didn’t know where he fit into her life, except that he must fit  _somewhere_  because Anna wanted him there. Anna looked over her shoulder at him, her smile bright and confident, full of security and faith in him. He waved slightly, like the lovestruck idiot he was, and when she turned away his hand touched his bruised shoulder again.

Here, now, he found that belonging somewhere suddenly seemed less important than belonging to someone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Love is most nearly itself  
> When here and now cease to matter.
> 
> (East Coker, The Four Quartets - T.S. Eliot)


End file.
